


Terrified

by TheLightFury



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, First Date, Flustered Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Mild Language, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, bickering idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 06:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20596046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLightFury/pseuds/TheLightFury
Summary: He was bored. Potter had badgered him into having a stupid dinner date, someone having put the stupid idea into his thick scarred head, but now the git was nowhere to be seen. He’d almost given up on the Chosen One appearing at all when a blustering man, with a birds’ nest for hair, practically ran up to the table. Merlin and Morgana the man was hot...Draco and Harry have grown closer in the last few months and someone's put the idea in the nimwit's brain to go out for dinner. Of course, it's nothing more than a catch up between friends... Right?





	Terrified

**Author's Note:**

  * For [donnarafiki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnarafiki/gifts).

> This is a quick fic for the wonderful donnarafiki as it was her birthday recently! Hope you all enjoy it!

The restaurant hummed around him, as Draco swirled the rich, fruity wine in his glass, each second ticking steadily by. It was a far fancier setting that he’d expected the Idiot Who Lived to choose, given his preference for greasy fast food and cheesy pasta, Draco had to admit. But still, the prat was late, and with each minute that passed, another hair stood on the back of his neck. 

Another waiter swanned past, directing a couple to their seats; shy glances passed between them as they settled at a table a few seats away. 

_ ‘Lovesick idiots,’  _ he scoffed, checking his watch again. He knew he was being bitchy and unfair, but he was bored. Potter had badgered him into having a stupid dinner date, someone having put the stupid idea into his thick scarred head, but now the git was nowhere to be seen, twenty minutes after he was supposed to have arrived. He’d almost given up on the Chosen One appearing at all; he knew he was always late but never usually by this much, and was just draining the last of his pinot noir when a blustering man, with a birds’ nest for hair, practically ran up to the table.

“I’m so sorry,” he babbled, rapidly sitting down and clumsily jolting the table as he did so. It was a good job Draco’s glass was empty. “I was going to be here before you, and then I got caught by a last minute firecall, and then I couldn’t find my shoes, and then suddenly it was five minutes after I was supposed to have been leaving and I just- I’m sorry,” he deflated in a helpless heap in the chair opposite. 

A million responses surged forward in Draco’s mind, each more cutting and sarcastic than the last. But as his eyes fell on the man’s slightly flushed, well defined cheeks, his lithe, sculpted arms under his crisp, white shirt, and the dark hint of chest hair, just below the open buttons - because of course Harry Potter  _ wouldn’t  _ wear a tie to a nice establishment - his mouth ran dry. Merlin and Morgana the man was  _ hot _ ...

Emerald eyes were staring into his, searching for acceptance of his apology, a rebuttal, or even plain acknowledgement. He quickly signalled the waiter for a refill of his wine, buying himself time as he recovered his senses.

“I see you still haven’t learned to tell the time yet, Potter,” he quipped, ignoring his stomach swooping as a half-annoyed, half-relieved, completely adorable grin lit up the Gryffindor’s face.

“Shove off, Malfoy,” he laughed. “I can tell time fine; it’s keeping to that I have problems with…” He gratefully accepted the glass of wine the waiter proffered. 

“I hope you didn’t wait too long.”

“The wine was very good company,” he shrugged, taking another small sip. He couldn’t help raising an eyebrow as the Boy Who Lived aerated his wine. 

“I didn’t know you liked wine, Potter.” The resulting smug grin on the berk’s face had Draco cursing his tongue.

“You don’t know lots about me,  _ Draco. _ Care to get to know me better? _ ”  _ A shiver ran down Draco’s spine at the use of his first name and the telltale heat of a flush was rushing to his cheeks. Why oh  _ why  _ did the Gryffindor have such an effect on him?! They’d been getting closer for a while now, but for some reason he was always turned into a blushing fool or a giddy school girl at the sight of the man’s smile! It just made no sense! He was just meeting with Potter for a simple dinner! Why was he blushing?! Thankfully the waiter appeared just then to take their order, and those sparkling emerald eyes hastily dropped to scour the menu.

“I’ll have the coq au vin, please,” Draco ordered without hesitation, having picked his order within 2 minutes of waiting for the git to turn up.

“Very well, Sir, and for you?” 

“Er, I think I’ll have the, um… Uh, yeah, could I have the beef wellington, please?” Draco’s eyebrows climbed again as the waiter nodded and departed.

“What?!” the other man asked defensively when he caught sight of Draco’s expression.

“Did you just willingly order something with vegetables?” Potter’s surprised laugh was far too infectious; what business did he have, being so happy and carefree, anyway? Didn’t he have a world to save?! Still, Draco couldn’t resist returning a quiet amused smile. 

As the restaurant filled, an easy conversation began between them; Draco asked what the firecall was about and caught up on the last few days, and in turn, Potter enquired after Draco’s family, his affairs, and his day. Sometime in between, the food arrived, which to Draco’s surprise, was absolutely divine; each morsel of chicken practically melted on his tongue, the ratio of brandy to wine was perfectly balanced, and the sweet tang of the shallots practically caressed his taste buds. Judging by the practically erotic sounds coming from the other side of the table, Potter was enjoying his food too.

“You sound like you’re courting your cow,” Draco taunted, letting a hint of his old sneer creep into his voice after the twat took a particularly enthusiastic mouthful. Potter, if possible, got even louder in response, savouring each second. Rolling his eyes, Draco took another delectable bite. 

“I might be open about how much I’m enjoying my food, but that doesn’t mean you don’t look like you’re having an orgasm with every mouthful.” Draco nearly choked on his food as the Gryffindor gave another deep, hearty laugh.

“I-I do no such thing!” He spluttered, incredulously. “I don’t!” he asserted again at the knowing grin on Potter’s face.

“So you’re telling me that you’re not sat there doing this?” The Gryffindor adjusted his grip on his fork, carefully moving a bite-size piece of beef onto it before placing it delicately in his mouth. As his soft, pink lips closed carefully around it, Potter’s eyes rolled back into his head, an expression of exaggerated bliss appearing on his face as he slowly chewed, eyelids fluttering every now and then as he sighed in content, revelling in each new flavour. Heat seared across Draco’s cheeks again. 

“Fuck off!” He hissed as the prat sniggered before carrying on his absurd, obviously exaggerated imitation, evidently feeling pleased with himself for getting under Draco’s skin.

“And stop doing that! You’re a disgrace. Merlin knows how you’ve survived until now with the Prophet hounding you.” Immediately the man groaned, dropping the act as his head dropped and his eyes slid closed in despair.

“Pleeaase don’t remind me,” he begged, hand running through his already ruffled hair in a clearly frustrated manner. Draco smirked at the resulting chaos. 

“Do you know I actually had to get one of their reporters fired, once?” That wiped the smile off of Draco’s face.

“Seriously?” Draco might still tease the man for the special treatment he got for being the Lord and Saviour Harry Potter, but he knew the man wasn’t cruel; he wouldn’t have cost someone their job unless they deserved it.

“Yep,” the Gryffindor took another mouthful of wine. “I was out with Gin a few years ago, we were on our way to a party or something - purely platonic though, she was already with Luna by that point - and we had to stop to adjust her shoes or something, I don’t know. Anyway, that gave this stupid reporter enough time to catch up with us. They’d thought it was me but they were ages behind and wouldn’t have been able to catch up had it not been for us stopping. But they did and asked where us  _ ‘lovebirds’  _ were going. Gin, of course, told him where to stick it and went to walk off, but he tried to catch hold of her! Being the fast little thing she is, she was mostly out of his reach by then. But he managed to catch hold of her skirt…”

“Oh Circe…” Draco breathed.

“Uh-huh. They didn’t have the common sense to let go, so instead, they completely tore Gin’s skirt off as she didn’t realise they were holding it until it was too late, leaving her half exposed in the middle of the street! There were muggles around and everything, so it’s not like we could have just repaired it then and there! Obviously I took their name and put in a complaint, as did Gin, and threatened to press charges. They didn’t last long after that,” he muttered darkly.

“Neither should they! At the very least you could have had him for assault, trying to grab her as she walked off!” The Gryffindor nodded.

“Exactly. You’d have thought that it would have been a warning to most of them, but no,” he sighed. “They still try and track me everywhere I go. I’ve even found a muggle tracking device on my clothes before, but unfortunately I have no idea who put it there so I couldn’t do anything about it,” he sighed, obviously still annoyed about that. 

“I feel like I spend half of my life planning how I’m going to get from place to place, just to avoid the press. In fact, I specifically chose this place because no one knows about it despite it being a wonderful place!” Draco feigned shock, placing a hand on his chest.

“And here I thought you chose it specifically for me, Potter!” He mocked, relishing his reward; another beautiful laugh.

“Well, that too! I did consider the chippy two streets down, but I quite enjoy the sensation of being hex free,” he grinned. 

“Well, if ever you change your mind, Potter, you know where to come,” he smirked, trying to commit the resulting laugh to memory. It really was gorgeous.

As empty dinner plates were replaced with equally delicious desserts, Draco could scarcely wipe the smile from his face. Light banter passed between them as naturally as breathing and the conversation flowed as steadily as water down a stream. He even laughed aloud at one point when, animatedly recounting one of the latest mishaps in the Weasley joke shop, the prat managed to drop chocolate sauce all over his shirt without noticing. Time seemed to fly by and all too soon the restaurant was subtly signalling for them to leave. 

“Mind if I make sure you get home okay?” the Gryffindor asked. The happy skip Draco’s heart performed at the request had him questioning how much he’d had to drink. Still, he felt safe to apparate… A second later, Potter’s warm, strong arm was tightly grasping his, as he side-alonged them to the nearest apparition point to his home.

Warm, sweet air greeted them as they landed in the sleepy borough five minutes from Draco’s flat. The sun was just sinking towards the horizon, and the sound of traffic was muted, distant, almost as if it was in another world. It was one of the main reasons Draco had chosen to live there; the main city was just that little bit further away, giving him the chance to separate his business and personal lives, the space to think and unwind after a long day. Plus it was almost entirely muggle, something he truly valued after the end of the war.

As they walked towards his home together their lighthearted banter continued, each taking turns to insult, jibe, and snigger at the other, each retort more and more ridiculous than the last. By the time they were approaching Draco’s house, they were both laughing so hard they couldn’t walk straight. 

Finally, after much swaying, wobbling and gasping, a sure sign of too much alcohol, no matter how clear his head felt, Draco’s door stood before them. A pleasant, thrumming silence settled between them, a silly grin still plastered on Potter’s stupid face. no matter how dignified he claimed to be in his head, Draco knew he was wearing a smile that was just as dopey as the Gryffindor’s. 

“Thanks for a very enjoyable evening, Potter,” he smiled, enjoying the way the setting sun was catching the Gryffindor’s hair. It looked so shiny, so soft. The man chuckled again.

“And to you.” He flashed a far too genuine smile. “Thanks for sticking around and waiting for me. I was worried you’d give up and leave.”

“It did cross my mind,” Draco admitted. “You’re very lucky their pinot was so nice.” 

“I’ll be sure to thank them next time I stop in,” the Gryffindor chuckled, eyes glimmering with laughter. Draco found his breath catching in his throat for some reason.

“Well,” Potter rocked on the balls of his feet, “I should probably be going. But I hope you’d like to do this again?” Draco smiled all too easily.

“I suppose that would be acceptable.” 

“Git!” Potter snorted.

“Twat.” He shot back instantly. They both sniggered again before lapsing into silence once more, both grinning like school boys. Just as the silence was about to get awkward, he sighed, thoughts of jobs to do in the morning circling in his head. 

“I should probably go in. Mother won’t approve if I’m late tomorrow,” he smiled ruefully. Harry merely smiled.

“I really did enjoy myself tonight,” he said. 

“Me too. Hopefully we can do it again,” Draco’s smile only grew at the happy nod from the Gryffindor.

“Good,” he grinned, murmuring quietly, “Goodnight Harry.”

“Night Draco,” Harry’s voice was low, tender, and almost as beautiful as his laugh. Before Draco could turn away, however, the Gryffindor leaned in close. Warm breath ghosted over Draco’s cheek, the faintest scent of chocolate brownie filling his nose, before a light, gentle kiss was pressed to his cheek. Instantly, heat rushed to his cheek as shivers shot down his spine. His heart was racing, head buzzing blankly in disbelief. Harry Potter was kissing his cheek!

But just as Draco truly realised what was happening, it was over. Potter pulled away, shooting Draco one last gorgeous smile, before he turned and walked back up the street, leaving Draco standing dumbly on his porch, openly staring at the retreating figure.

A million questions were running through his head; why had he done that? They were just friends, weren’t they? But more to the point, why hadn’t Draco stopped him?! Sure his reaction time might have been a bit slow due to shock, but he still had time to push him away! So why hadn’t he? What did this mean? Had Potter really had that much to drink? Why had it felt so… Nice? Suddenly Draco realised that his hand was tracing the spot on his cheek where the Gryffindor’s lips had brushed moments before. 

Quickly shaking himself, he let himself in and made some coffee, wondering just how much he’d had to drink to act in such a silly fashion. As he made his way upstairs, shedding his shoes and garments as he went, the last few minutes replayed over and over in his mind. He’d just begun loosening his belt when he realised what he’d said. 

He’d called him Harry.

Just as they were saying goodnight, grinning like idiots, he’d actually called them man by his first name! Like it was a normal thing for them to do, as naturally as can be! But why? How?! 

Suddenly all the events from the evening flashed before his eyes; the way he’d drunk in the sight of the flustered Gryffindor, the constant swooping and skipping of his stomach and heart at the other man’s laughs, jokes, or looks that he’d blamed on too much alcohol, and the odd air of electricity as soon as the man had sat down. Like a man seeing an erumpant for the first time, Draco’s mouth dropped as he realised that all of their banter had been flirting -  _ blatant flirting! -  _ with the saviour of the wizarding world! Flirting that the Gryffindor had eagerly and readily returned!

Surely it was a mistake; surely Potter had just had too much wine and had kissed him without meaning too, a little too happy and carried away by the romantic setting sun… But the Gryffindor’s face swam into view in Draco’s head, his expression completely open, entirely trusting, and genuinely happy. As the memory of the man’s carefree laughter rang in his ears, somehow Draco knew it was true. 

Potter liked him. And he liked Potter. 

And suddenly, he was terrified. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Come say hi to me on Tumblr @april-thelightfury115


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